


bathe me in silver

by viceandvirtue



Series: prompt collection [12]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A fanfic of a fanfic, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, M/M, Role-Reversal, Royalty and Nobility
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 09:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17098037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceandvirtue/pseuds/viceandvirtue
Summary: He’s just seen the night sky take shape on earth.





	bathe me in silver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [karasunotsubasa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunotsubasa/gifts).
  * Inspired by [dazzle me with gold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14071806) by [karasunotsubasa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunotsubasa/pseuds/karasunotsubasa). 



When Yuuri traveled into the woods of the unclaimed territory he was exploring for a late night’s hunt, he was hardly expecting this. It’s still a little too fantastical to imagine.

_He’s just seen the night sky take shape on earth._

It was hardly been a flicker the first time, a flash in the corner of his eyes. A trick he had assured himself and urged his great black destrier on. Then it made itself known again at his left, his right, in front of him a way.

He forgets about the bow in his hand, the arrows on his back, his whole reason for being here as he maneuvers the stallion deeper into the shadow of the towering firs. Snuffling boar ate under the combs of feather moss and that’s what he _should_ be hunting, instead of this fleet-footed creature made of starlight and the moon’s shadows.

Yuuri’s not even thinking of hunting anymore. He just wants to _see_.

It takes a while of wandering and a slow-building frustration when Yuuri happens upon the clearing. It's beautiful, a wide space like a small meadow that stretches between the two arms of the mountains Yuuri can just barely perceive in the distance. Surrounded on all sides by forest, it should feel strangled, threatened, but it does not. Instead, it's one of the loveliest things Yuuri has ever seen, a rich swath of emerald green cradling a lake so still, Yuuri would think it mere glass. He stops his horse just on the edges, knotting the reins around a low-hanging limb to let the animal graze as he makes his way into the swaying grasses on foot, his boots making little sound on the soft dirt, abandoning his bow along the way.

And then the fleetfooted creature – a wolf, he now realizes, appears on the opposite embankment. The wind and dropping temperatures brought gossamer-fragile strands of mist to the edges of the clearing, a ghostly ring as if to ensure that neither can leave and nothing can enter. The world seems to hold its breath as if waiting. For what he didn’t know.

The wolf is a beauty of wraith-silver standing on powerfully elegant legs. Lasers of moonlight, as bright as diamond-flame, turned the fur a-glow like melted platinum. It was as if he was watching a goddess’s creature from an ancient mythos stepping off the page and he was beguiled by its beauty.

The wolf steps forward as if to wade into the water and Yuuri doesn’t move, despite his better judgment screaming at him to run, to grab his bow and put the clearing out of his mind. Because wolves were predators, carnivores, and there wasn’t much meat on the winter-lean hares and bucks, but a man was a different story.

He sinks to the ground as the wolf comes around the shore. If he stays still enough, perhaps the wolf will keep his attention on the surroundings and not Yuuri, so that he may still be allowed to watch for as long as he possibly could. As the creature stalks closer, Yuuri catches blue eyes and a thought comes to mind from his boyhood lessons. ‘ _The hottest fires always burn blue_.’

He doesn’t know why he thinks that now, but as the wolf comes upon him, he can feel the heat radiating from its massive body, can see the flecks of frost white and darker grey in the silver fur, can smell fur and buck and –

The wolf pauses on the shore as the howl of other distant creatures reaches the glade. What happens next chills Yuuri to his bones more so than the fog or night air ever did. The wolf throws his head back and howls, ears pressed tight to its skull, adding its voice to the cacophony.

Yuuri tries to stay absolutely still, but he can’t help the fear that creeps into his chest and strangles the air in his lungs, strangles the urge he feels to suddenly reach out and touch the fur of the magnificent creature before him.

Perhaps it is best then, that by the time he manages to get a hold of himself, the wolf has bounded off into the darkness of the forest, away from the lake. Away from Yuuri.

Yuuri stands - now that he is alone - and makes his way out of the clearing, picking up his discarded bow along the way. Untying and mounting his horse once more, he takes off for camp once again and doesn’t even think twice that he hasn’t even a squirrel in hand to prove to his men that he’d really been out hunting as he insisted when he left camp.

 

 

 

 

Viktor walks the floors of the Chulanont mansion, making a beeline for the man on the Lord’s arm.

“Chris,” he says cheerfully, allowing himself to be pulled into his friend’s embrace. “You look well.” And truly his friend does - laurel wreath tiara of emeralds at his temples, dressed in green and black and draped in the same emeralds that adorn Phichit’s collarbone and shimmer around the corners of his eyes. “Lord Chulanont,” he says politely a moment later.

The other man returns an imperious ‘lovely to see you, Viktor’ but there’s a grin on his face that says it’s genuine.

The herald gives a sharp clearing of the throat before calling out, “Lord Yuuri Katsuki!”, and thus gaining the attention of everyone in the room. Phichit gives a quick kiss to Christophe’s cheek before going over to greet their guest.

“So,” Chris says conversationally, plucking two goblets of fine white wine off a passing tray and handing one off to Viktor, “Lord Katsuki looks lovely tonight, doesn’t he?”

He does, Viktor admits as he lets his eyes trail over the young lord. Katsuki is built along strong lines, with broad shoulders and strong hands, and the gold he’s draped in only accentuates that. But he seems almost soft in a way that denotes delicacy instead of fragility or frailty. In comparison, Viktor inherited his mother’s litheness, all of her lean, lines. But he is, regardless, the son of a blacksmith, and thus has the rough hands of one. No matter how much he scrubs his nails with crude soap, there is still traces of soot to discolor them.

“You should ask him to dance,” Chris murmurs as Lord Katsuki and Phichit begin to make their way back.

“I couldn’t possibly,” he says in measured tones, trying not to betray just how much he wants to do exactly that. He wants nothing more than to be swept up by those strong arms and whirled around the ballroom floor, to make soft conversation -and lose himself in the deep brown eyes he known Katsuki to possess, to for once operate outside the bounds of his social station and take what he wants with all of the selfishness he refrains from partaking in. But why would a man like Yuuri Katsuki, who has everything, ever want someone like Viktor? Even if it was just for a dance.


End file.
